


French Kissing in Paris

by Woldy



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Community: kinkme_merlin, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will you kiss me at 4‘o’clock on September 26th?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Kissing in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Bradley convinces Colin to participate in [the French Kiss-In](http://gaydaytime.blogspot.com/2009/09/french-kiss-in-at-4pm.html)" at [](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/) but ineligible to post there due to policies on Season 2 spoilers (it contains spoilers for 2.04). This fic is not beta-ed, so I apologise for any mistakes.
> 
> All real people are used without their permission. Events portrayed are entirely fictional and do not reflect on the actual people within the stories. No profit is being made from this story &amp; no offence is intended.

When Colin first mentions the idea they’re in bed together, pliant and sweaty, in Bradley’s hotel room. The hotel is small and the rooms are irregular shapes, clearly converted from some other use, and they’ve been there a week filming scenes in the nearby forest. It’s enough to make them both long for the familiarity and convenience of their hotel in Pierrefonds, with its incomprehensible French staff who glare at the notes they leave on one another’s doors. So Bradley supposes it is the reminiscence which prompts Colin to ask,

“Will you kiss me at 4‘o’clock on September 26th?”

Bradley turns to stare at him. “Depends what we’re doing. Not if we’re in the middle of a scene, or something.”

“Nah, it’s a Saturday, we’ve got the day off,” Colin replies, and Bradley obviously looks sceptical because he continues, “I checked in the filming schedule. I was thinking we could do something in Paris.”

“You want to snog me in Paris? Has all this sex addled your brain? Next I thing I know you’ll be proposing something totally soppy like, I dunno, taking pictures on the Eiffel Tower and holding hands along the Seine while street musicians -”

“Oi,” Colin says, bumping his bony shoulder against Bradley’s own. “It’s nothing like that. I just want to kiss you. On September 26th, all right?”

Bradley frowns at him. “All right,” he says.

The next time Colin mentions it they’re taking a break between shots, leaning up against the castle walls in the fading light. Bradley’s been on his feet for over ten hours, wearing chain-mail for most of the scenes, and his whole body aches. They’ve been doing scenes together all day, and judging by the slope of Colin’s shoulders he doesn’t feel any better.

“We’re still on for next weekend, yeah?” he says, and Bradley glances up to at him.

Colin’s head is tilted to one side, his eyes half-closed with tiredness, and for a moment all Bradley wants to do is hold him and press a kiss to that pale temple. He stares at the light on Colin’s cheekbones, at the dark sweep of his lashes, and wishes that they could just lie down together. That’s all he asks.

“Bradley?”

“What?” he says, with a jerk.

“Paris, next weekend,” Colin repeats. “It’s still on, right?”

“Course,” Bradley says, thinking of lazing in bed together until midday and of the buttery croissants you can find on every street in Paris. He’s about to tell Colin how much he’s looking forward to it, but at that point the director calls out, “We’re ready for another shot.”

Colin sighs, straightening up, and Bradley heaves himself away from the wall. They both take their positions at the top of the castle steps, and Bradley squares his shoulders

“Lancelot and Guinevere, scene 114, take 9. Action!”

Bradley bounds down the steps two at a time, feigning an energy that he doesn’t feel, and when he gets to the bottom Colin hurries to catch up with him.

“Look on the bright side, you’ve still got me.”

“Is that supposed to cheer me up?” Bradley asks incredulously, looking sideways, and catches Colin’s eye as he replies “Thought it might.”

“You really are a complete idiot aren’t you Merlin?” he says dismissively, fighting to keep the amusement out of his voice, and they take another half a dozen steps across the courtyard before someone yells “Cut!”

“That’s the lot for tonight. We’ll lose the light if we do any more,” the director says, walking up to them. “Good job, both of you.”

Colin nods and flashes a brief smile, that wide dazzling smile that makes the front covers of magazines, and Bradley feels his heart melt. He walks close to Colin as they head back to their trailers, elbows brushing, and thinks of curling up to sleep.

The third time Colin mentions it is when they’re on the train into Paris on Friday evening, clutching their backpacks, Bradley’s phrase-book and the same _Rough Guide to France_ that Colin had carried around during the first season of filming.

Bradley is staring out of the window, watching the countryside speed past against the dusky pink sky and wishing they’d thought to bring some food for the journey, when Colin abruptly says, “All right, it’s not just a kiss.”

He turns to look at Colin, who seems almost nervous.

“What are you going on about?”

“This trip,” Colin says, looking down and fiddling with the straps on his rucksack. “It’s. I mean, yeah, it’s partly spending the weekend in Paris with you, but I’ve got an ulterior motive.”

“Ah,” Bradley says, as his brain starts suggesting wildly implausible explanations: Colin is some kind of foreign special agent! Colin has flown his parents all the way to France and we’re going for lunch! Colin has abandoned the vegetarianism and we’re going to spend all weekend feasting on frogs legs and snails! Colin is planning to break up with me on the - oh, god, is Colin planning to break up with me?

“There’s a Kiss In tomorrow,” Colin says, eyes still fixed on the rucksack strap which he’s picking at with his nail. “It’s - I guess you wouldn’t have heard of it, not being gay until a few months ago -”

“Just because I didn’t fancy you to start with doesn’t mean that I wasn’t gay -” protests Bradley.

“Not telling anyone you were gay, then, or bisexual or whatever,” Colin says, without pausing, “but it’s a kind of political thing. Everyone kisses in the street at the same time. It started as AIDS activism, I think, but now it’s just... I dunno, it’s a sort of public statement. That we should all be able to kiss in public, you know?”

Colin finally looks up, cheeks pink and his expression wary, and it takes Bradley a moment to realise what he’s said.

“You want to kiss me in public?” Bradley says, shooting a sideways glance at the handful of other people in the carriage. There’s no indication that any of those people understand English, or that they have any idea who he and Colin are, but he’s used to being careful and talking about this in public puts him on edge. “You - is that a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Colin says quickly, raising his chin as though he’s spoiling for an argument.

“Have you talked to your agent about this?” Bradley asks, and Colin frowns at him.

“It’s none of his business.”

“But...surely it’s everyone’s business if we’re seen,” Bradley points out. “Which we might be. In public. In-” he lowers his voice, “-in a whole crowd of gay people. If the media got hold of it then we wouldn’t be able to deny this.”

“Do you want to deny it? Colin asks sharply.

“No, I-” Bradley stops, trying to organise his thoughts. “It’s just. You’ve thought about this?”

“Yes,” says Colin. “D’you not remember me asking?”

Now that he mentions it Bradley does remember. He hadn’t known, at the time, why Colin was making a big deal about kissing on a specific Saturday afternoon, but now, with the overtones of political protest and the risk of their relationship becoming public, it all makes sense.

“And you want to do this?” Bradley asks, watching him closely.

“I don’t want to push you into it,” Colin says shortly, shifting his weight and moving a few inches further away, and Bradley clasps his fingers around Colin’s wrist.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” Bradley says, in a low voice, and then thinks _screw it, if we’re talking about snogging in the middle of Paris then there’s no point whispering on the train_. “There’s just consequences. It could mess up the dynamics of the show, especially now they’re pursuing the big Arthurian canon and minimising the subtext. I dunno how keen the BBC is on a gay Arthur. So I just...I need to know you’re not going to ditch out on me if it goes wrong.”

Colin gives him an incredulous look and says, “_You_ need to know that I’m not going to ditch out. I’m not the one who’s been putting on this big show of heterosexual machismo with the football and bromance!”

“I know,” Bradley says, taking a deep breath and mustering his courage. “That’s why I’m asking. Because I don’t want to take a risk with my career if this isn’t... Unless things matter with you.”

Colin holds his gaze for a second and then his face splits into a wide smile.

“Jesus, Bradley,” he says, fondness and exasperation warring in his tone, “if it didn’t matter then I wouldn’t have asked.”

The fourth time Colin asks him is when they’re standing on the hill in Montmartre, outside the huge white-domed basilica. There are a few dozen other people waiting for the Kiss In, mostly men, and Bradley watches them smile and joke in French, jostling one another, one couple kissing already.

“Forty seconds...thirty-nine...thirty-eight...” Colin is saying, his eyes fixed on the hand of his watch. “Thirty two...thirty one.”

“I’m done with waiting,” Bradley says, leaning in, and Colin protests awkwardly even as Bradley is pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“We’re meant to kiss at four!”

“So?” Bradley asks, and licks at Colin’s lower lip. “As long as we’re still kissing at four, why does it matter when we start?”

Colin smiles against his mouth, and Bradley kisses him again, cupping his hand around  the back of Colin’s neck to pull him closer.

Bradley dimly registers the shouts of, “Il est seize heurs! Allez!” but by that time they’re kissing open-mouthed, Colin leaning into him, and nothing else seems to matter very much.

It’s long after four pm by the time they stop. 


End file.
